Two Songs This Archangel Sings

5

I woke up coughing. To my considerable surprise it appeared that I wasn't dead-only slightly singed and short of breath, with lungs that felt as if they'd been painted with the drippings at the bottom of a barbecue pit and a mouth that tasted the same. There was a soft hissing sound that seemed to come from all around me, and after a few moments I realized that what I thought was badly blurred vision was due to the fact that I was looking at the walls of an oxygen tent. I started hacking again, brought up dark phlegm. As if on cue, a flap of the tent was pulled back and a reasonably attractive nurse appeared with a metal bowl to contain my own drippings. The large, familiar, and comforting figure of my brother loomed up behind the nurse, peered down at me over her shoulder. When I tried to speak and could only manage a huge yawn, I realized I was pretty well doped up on analgesics, expectorants, whatever. I finished hacking and spitting, then lazily waved to Garth and drifted back to sleep.

When I did finally come around for an extended stay, I had a splitting headache. My mouth still tasted like a furnace, and my lungs felt like leather, but it was considerably easier to breathe. When I took a physical inventory, I found that I was burned on various parts of my body, primarily the lower parts of my arms and legs. However, even though the burns were covered with light gauze, I was fairly certain that they weren't severe. My feet and legs, and particularly my knees, throbbed from the pounding the younger man had given my soles, but he hadn't broken anything. Incredibly, I was not only alive, but not even seriously hurt. Considering the fact that the last thing I remembered was passing out on a bed that was going up in flames, I considered my present condition most peculiar, if not downright miraculous. Try as hard as I might, I could not come up with any kind of plausible scenario that could explain my survival.

I pushed back the flap on the oxygen tent, pushed myself up into a sitting position and swung my legs over the side of the bed, groaned when pain shot through my body and pounded in my skull. Garth, who had been sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed, quickly rose, came to me, and very gently wrapped me in his arms.

"Thank God," Garth said quietly, then tried to push me back under the oxygen tent.

"I'm all right," I said, pushing back. "Just let me sit up for a time. How the hell did I get here?"

Garth pulled the chair up to the side of the bed, sat down, and lightly rested his hand on my arm. "What do you remember?" he asked quietly.

A very dangerous question, I thought as I looked at Garth. I thought I was beginning to understand at least a few of the reasons why Veil had reached out for my help in such a maddeningly problematic and circuitous manner, and now I was in a position where I had to be very cautious about how I did things. I believed I had convinced my torturers that Garth was a totally disinterested party who hadn't even seen Veil's mysterious painting, and that we hadn't had any discussions about the matter other than those the men had monitored on the telephone. If the men hadn't been convinced of this, I was convinced that I would have survived the fire only to be told that my brother was dead. I had myself a dilemma witli no means to resolve it, no loft to leave open and no lights to leave burning. The circumstances surrounding Veil's disappearance were now most definitely a matter for the police to investigate, but the price of telling Garth what had happened could well be his life. I wasn't certain what I should do, and I wanted time to think about it.

"At the moment, all I remember is a lot of smoke and flame," I said carefully, watching my brother's face. "Who got me out?"

"It must have been a fireman, although I was never able to find out which one," Garth said in an odd tone of voice that went with the odd way he was looking at me. "I responded to the original call when I heard the fire was in your apartment building. As a matter of fact, I was the one who found you unconscious on the sidewalk where somebody had dropped you. You were wrapped in soaked drapes from your living room. Whoever got to you first had a lot of presence of mind; he was cool, quick, and gutsy."

Indeed, I thought. Also, whoever had broken through the apartment door, assessed the situation, torn down the living room drapes and soaked them in the kitchen sink, then waded under that life-saving shroud through a sea of flame to cut me free and carry me out, had to have been very close by-like virtually in the hallway outside my apartment. Even so, I considered it quite possible that my rescuer had been more badly burned than I was.

"What about the other people in the building?" I asked.

"The whole floor was gutted. Five people died-two of them children."

"Oh, my God," I whispered.

"You'll stay at my place until you find another one of your own," Garth said. His tone had gone from merely odd to almost cold. He turned slightly, nodded toward a stack of boxes piled up next to the window. "I brought you a few changes of clothes."

"Thank you."

"I've got a couple of other items for you, as well," Garth said, rising from the chair and walking to the window. He selected a box, came back and sat down again. Resting the box on his knees, he took off the top and brought out two handguns-a nickel-plated Beretta in a shoulder holster and a palm-sized Seecamp with an ankle holster. He placed the guns, along with a box of cartridges for each, on the bed next to me. "These will replace the ones you lost. You'll find copies of your city and state carry permits in the shoulder holster. It makes me very nervous to think of you going around unarmed, even in a hospital room."

I checked the magazine and trigger action of the Beretta, shoved it back into its holster. The weapons of death looked out of place in this room inside a house of healing. "Thanks again, Garth. You've really been taking care of business."

"Yeah. You say all you remember is waking up and finding yourself surrounded by smoke and flame?"

"Uh… something like that." I was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"Something like that? Let me see if I can refresh your memory." Once again he reached into the box. This time he brought out four lengths of rope, each frayed at one end and sliced cleanly with a knife at the other. He tossed the ropes into my lap. "I'll bet a month's salary that the widths of those ropes match the friction burns on your wrists and ankles," Garth continued coldly. "They should, because that's where I found them tied. God knows how you got those bruises on your heels and soles; they're black. Do you always beat the soles of your feet and tie yourself up before you go to sleep?"

I'd run out of thinking time. "Garth, I-"

"What the fuck's the matter with you?!" Garth snapped, his brown eyes flashing with anger. "Five people died in that fire! Why the hell are you playing games with me?!"

"I'm sorry, Garth. I thought maybe I had a good reason for keeping my mouth shut. I can see now that I didn't."

"The fire that destroyed that floor started in your apartment, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"Very good. It sounds like your memory is improving."

I proceeded to tell Garth what had happened, finished by explaining why I had considered keeping the story to myself.

"Dumb, Mongo," Garth said, shaking his head in exasperation. However, his face had softened, and the chill was gone from his voice. "I appreciate your concern for me, as misplaced as it was, but don't really understand what you thought you were going to do next. Did you plan to try to find and take on these two guys by yourself?"

"I wasn't sure what I was going to do, Garth," I replied, thoroughly chastened. "I was thinking about it."

"Hell, all they did was tie you on your bed and light a fire under you."

"True; but they tried to kill me only after they'd asked me a lot of questions, which I think is important to consider. There's no doubt in my mind that if those guys had thought they already had the answers to the questions, if Veil had left me any kind of message clearly outlining what was going on, I'd have been blown away the moment I stepped out of Veil's loft onto the sidewalk. The men weren't certain of what I knew, or what others might know, and so they followed me instead of killing me right away. Now, if they find out I'm alive, they'll kill me on sight-and I believe they'll do the same to you if they find out we've talked. Doubt in the minds of Veil's enemies-doubt about what he's done, and plans to do-is the only reason I'm alive. That's one of the things I believe I learned from my visitors."

"One of the things? I thought you said they didn't tell you a damn thing."

"They didn't, but I think we know a little more now than we did before they popped in on me. I found the questions they asked and the situation itself instructive."

"Instruct me."

"We have confirmation that Veil is the guardian of a secret that profoundly threatens a very powerful person or persons unknown. The importance the men attached to the painting confirms that it contained a clue, or clues, to what that secret is; the secret involves events that took place a lot of years ago, sometime during the decade that the United States was involved in the war in Viet Nam."

Garth thought about it. "It's hard to imagine anything about that miserable period of history coming out now that would be worse than the stuff that's already been exposed."

"That's arguable. In any case, let's pose the question differently. It may not be a matter of how bad the shit is compared to things that have already been reported, but who this particular pile of shit belongs to. The torturer-assassins who worked me over were top-of-the-line professionals. Talent like that, whether working free-lance or on a salaried basis, doesn't come cheap. That's why I smell a lot of money and power behind them. Whatever Veil knows could seriously embarrass that money and power."

"You think Kendry may have been blackmailing somebody?"

"No. Veil isn't the blackmailing type. But even if I were wrong about his character, I could still point out that he never had the proverbial pissing pot until he started to make it with his art. Yet whatever he knows, he's known it a long time, and all indications are that he assiduously kept his mouth shut. Christ, he's still keeping it shut, for all intents and purposes."

"Then why come after him now?"

"An excellent question. Whatever it is Veil knows, he was left in peace for close to two decades-until Wednesday. By the way, what day is it?"

"Sunday. You've been out for a while. Just because Kendry never said anything to you doesn't mean that he didn't start whispering in somebody else's ear."

"Granted that's possible. Whatever Veil did or didn't do, it now seems almost certain that money and power sent an assassin after him. But the rifleman misses, and now money and power really has a problem. The truce, if that's the proper word for it, is broken. Not only is a live, hidden Veil Kendry one hell of a formidable opponent, but he no longer has any reason-maybe-to keep quiet. Enter my two visitors with some difficult marching orders-track Veil Kendry; assess any damage Veil may already have done; erase possible trouble spots, like me."

"According to you, and I have no doubt you're right, he's carrying nunchaku, at least one knife, two handguns, and a submachine gun. That sounds like somebody bent more on killing an enemy that talking about him."

"I'm not so sure. Always, we come back to his signals to me-the open loft, the lights, the painting, the money. Why all that business, unless he wants something brought out, and is willing to pay me a lot of money to bring it out? Believe me, if all Veil wanted was to kill somebody, that person would be dead."

"Maybe the guy is heavily guarded; money and power usually are."

"He'd still be dead. You tend to underestimate Veil's skills; he's one hell of a lot more than just a street fighter. No; he wants something brought out. He can't just come out and say it himself because… because…"

Garth supplied the answer I was looking for. "Because he wouldn't be believed," my brother said distantly. "He's got a long police record, and God knows what his military file would show."

"Thank you, Sherlock. That's it. He needs proof, some form of corroboration from an outside party, for the story he has to tell. He has a friend who's a private investigator, but he just couldn't bring himself to hire a friend to do a job that could get him killed in the blink of an eye, so he-"

"That's bullshit," Garth interrupted, his voice thick with soft, subdued fury. "That fucker set you up."

"No. He left it all up to one roll of the dice. You're the one who pointed out that I practically had to rip up the floorboards to find the painting and the money."

Garth dismissed the thought with a gesture of disdain and disgust. "Anyone who knows you would have made you an overwhelming odds-on favorite to do exactly what you did under those circumstances, in that situation. He set you up."

"I'll take responsibility for my own behavior, thank you very much."

"If he'd been up front with you from the beginning, you'd at least have known what it was you were getting involved in. You'd have had some kind of warning of the kind of people you were up against and could have taken appropriate steps to defend yourself. His stupid little game almost cost you your life, and now you're a marked man until this thing is resolved. I may kill the son-of-a-bitch if I find him."

"Take it easy, Garth," I said, and eased myself off the side of the bed onto the floor. Instantly, pain shot up from my heels into my shinbones and knees, and I promptly collapsed.

"You're not going anywhere for a while on those feet," Garth said as he gently lifted me off the floor and deposited me back on the bed. "What'd they use, a blackjack?"

"Yeah," I said through clenched teeth as I waited for the pain to subside. "I've got to get on the move, Garth. If those guys find out I'm alive, and they probably will, I'll be a sitting duck here. It won't take a bloodhound to find me."

"That's why I brought you your two little friends there to keep you company. Also, there'll be an armed guard outside your door for as long as you're here."

"Who the hell's paying for that?"

"The city of New York. You're a material witness in crimes including arson and murder. In fact, this little chat may be considered an official police interrogation. As for the rest of it, I don't give a damn what Kendry did or didn't want you to do. This has become a police matter, and you're out of it. I greatly appreciate your thoughts, but thinking is all you're going to be doing from now on. You can talk to me all you want; I happen to be assigned to the case."

"You? What happened to the big industrial espionage case you were working on?"

"I asked to be transferred to this case, and they gave it to me. I have more than a passing interest in finding that prick Kendry, as well as the two men who beat on you and started that fire under your ass."

"Garth, isn't it a bit unusual to assign a case to a cop who has blood in his eye because of a personal interest?"

"Who cares if it's unusual? I've got it. You wanted the police involved, you've got it. A police artist will be around in an hour or so to talk with you and try to develop some sketches."

"Garth, you're not going to find Veil unless he wants to be found."

"We'll see about that. He's also considered a material witness. You let me worry about him. When you've coughed up the rest of the crap in your lungs and can walk, you're literally going to hole up in my apartment until we crack this thing. I'm going to booby-trap the place so that nobody but the Frederickson brothers can walk through the door and stay in one piece."

"I'm not going to 'hole up' anywhere, Garth, and you know it. I've got things to do."

"No, you don't. You carried close to a double teaching load last semester so you'd be free this semester to talk to some more loonies. So you put off your research for a time. You have to keep a low profile for a while. Make a joke about your naturally low profile, I'll swat the bottoms of your feet. I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I. You let me take care of my own business, Garth. You don't know how long solving this is going to take. It was my feet they beat on, and my ass they tried to burn. I take things like that personally, too. Also, Veil is still my friend, and I'd become personally involved even before my visitors came. I'd taken Veil's money."

"You took shit. You just put his money in a safer place, remember? Besides, the painting is gone. You've got nothing left to go on."

"I've got more than you do. I remember the painting, and in particular I remember the symbols on the robe the figure wore."

"Maybe they were just put there for decoration."

"Nothing in that painting was put there just 'for decoration.' They were some kind of symbols, and I'm going to find out what they mean."

Garth slowly shook his head. "You're not thinking clearly, Mongo. You make sketches of whatever markings you remember, and I'll have them checked out. You don't exactly blend into the scenery, which means you can't just go walking around the streets. You want those guys to finish what they started?"

"Indeed not. But I don't think I'm alone; I do believe I've picked up some heavy protection-a guardian angel, so to speak."

"You've got smoke on the brain. What are you talking about?"

"How many cops and firemen were on the scene when you got there?"

"They were all over the place."

"Ambulances?"

"Two or three. What are you getting at?"

"You said you found me on the sidewalk, wrapped in wet drapes. Let me tell you something; whoever cut me off that bed and carried me outside was no fireman. When I passed out, I was surrounded by flame and just this side of Barbecue City-a minute, probably less. Now, I never heard any sirens-and believe me, I was listening with keen interest. I would have been ashes by the time firemen pulled up to the front of the building, much less got up to my apartment. No way. Five people died in a fire that started under my bed."

Garth considered it, and I could see in his eyes that he was reaching the same conclusion I had. But then he backed away from it. "Fires are tricky things, Mongo. I'm not sure you would have heard sirens over the noise of the fire itself. The firemen could have been a lot closer than you think."

"A cop or fireman would have taken me directly to an ambulance, not dropped me on the sidewalk. It had to be Veil who got to me, cut me loose, and carried me out. He'd known what was likely to happen to me if I got involved, and he'd been keeping an eye on me from the time I pushed open his door and went up to his loft. He must have broken through the door of my apartment almost as soon as the two men left. It was probably Veil who turned in the first alarm. After he got me out, he would have gone back up to try and help others; it was too late for five of them."

Garth was silent for some time, thinking. "Just for the sake of argument," he said at last, "let's assume that you're right. One question: If it was Kendry who brought you out, and he was that close all the time, why didn't he make an earlier entrance and blow away those two guys before they started thumping on your feet and toasting your ass?"

"I don't know. I'll ask him when I find him."

Garth reached out, took the Beretta and the Seecamp out of their holsters, and emptied both boxes of cartridges on the bed. He put a bullet in the chamber of each gun, filled both magazines. When he had finished he shoved the Seecamp under my pillow, put the Beretta, the holsters, and the remaining cartridges into a drawer of the stand next to the bed. "If any hospital personnel try to give you a hard time about the guns, you have them call me."

"I'll keep them out of sight."

"Just as long as you keep them close at hand." Garth gave me a smile and a thumbs-up sign before rising from the chair and heading for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, turned back. His smile had vanished. "I'll be the one asking Kendry why he sent you out on a paper raft into a sea of sharks," my brother said in a low voice that carried more than a hint of menace. "As a matter of fact, I have quite a few questions to ask Mr. Kendry, and I plan to have his ass in custody by the time you get out of here."

"Garth, you be very careful how you handle Veil Kendry," I said quickly, but my brother was already gone from the room.